Freak
by Epiphany3
Summary: Is it possible one man can be cursed? Or do we make our own fate by expecting -- and eventually receiving -- the worst from ourselves?


TITLE: Freak
    INFO: Written for I Made This Productions VS8
    Author: Ursula Luxem
    E-Mail: mmckenzie@dll-lever.com
    Rating: PG
    Category: X (UST)
    Spoilers: None
    Archive: Only with permission from author.
    Gossamer/Xemplary OK.
    All others can link to
    Feedback: Make my day.
    Disclaimer: All characters from the X-Files are the
    property of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox
    Television Network. All other characters belong to the
    author.
    Summary: Is it possible one man can be cursed? Or do
    we make our own fate by expecting -- and eventually
    receiving -- the worst from ourselves?
    Thanks to Connie for beta reading and editing.
    For Ford. You're still looking over my shoulder.
    ===========================================================
    "By the pricking of my thumbs,
    Something wicked this way comes."
    -- Shakespeare, 'Macbeth'
    Prologue
    Washington D.C.
    Nov 20, 1:10am
    She was captivating: pale under the moonlight, possessing
    an audacious nature, blessed with the vivacious curves of a
    mature woman, yet sleek as any athlete.
    Her name was Zelda.
    Nothing was too good for Zelda. Her man took her
    everywhere, be it exotic, or mundane. He made sure she
    never went without. Tonight, it was a club, trendy and
    tucked away on a quiet D.C. back street.
    She may have been parked outside, but Zelda still embodied
    the peak of perfection -- from her precisely timed engine
    to her gleaming chrome hubcaps. Now, as always, the white
    1959 Thunderbird hardtop stood silent witness to her
    owner's misfortunes.
    Quentin Skase leaned on his treasure for support and
    comfort. Zelda was solid. Zelda was steadfast. Zelda would
    never leave him. Quentin's brown eyes, graced with
    impossible to resist long lashes, flicked from the car to
    the woman as he pleaded with his girlfriend. "Don't go. We
    can talk about this, Lucy..."
    "Nothing more to say, Que. It's over." Lucy was an
    striking Chinese woman. Her jet hair swayed like silk as
    she tipped her head to study the man with whom she'd spent
    the past 12 months. He was tall, always stood straight, and
    was always impeccably groomed. In fact, she considered the
    fastidiousness of the man a curse. At first it had been
    endearing. Now, it just rankled. "It's over, Quentin," she
    repeated.
    "Don't talk like that." Quentin's voice began to crack
    under the strain. "We can work things out."
    Lucy shook her head. "I can't take it anymore. It's too
    much. You expect everything to be perfect. The housework
    needs doing a special way ... my clothes are never quite
    right... nothing is arranged properly in the bathroom
    cabinets..." she waved a hand at the Thunderbird. "That
    damn car always needs washing... tuning... polishing...
    burping."
    He made a move to take her hand, but she backed away.
    "Please... don't do this, Lucy."
    She gave a sigh, and her bloodshot eyes told the real
    story. "It's over, Que. I'm not perfect, and I'm not going
    to be. To tell you the truth, I don't even want to be."
    His pleading brown eyes met hers, and for the briefest of
    moments he thought perhaps she would give in. He gave a
    tentative smile. "You're perfect to me, Lucy..."
    "That's just the problem, Que. I'm not. Nothing and no-one
    ever is."
    "We have to make sure everything is perfect... as perfect
    as it can be," he amended, "Once we're married--"
    Lucy's eyes widened. "Married? Us? Ha! Why don't you marry
    the damn car!" She kicked one freshly blacked T-Bird cross-
    ply radial, then turned and stalked off, crossing to the
    opposite side of the street in her haste.
    Skase bent to inspect any damage she may have caused, and
    scowled at the scuff mark left by her foot. He straightened
    and watched her departure; heard the clack of her heels
    echoing in the lonely street. His expression grew darker by
    the second. "You can't just walk away from me, Lucy," he
    called, "No-one walks away from me!"
    Lucy turned. The streetlights caressed the red silk of her
    dress. She stared back at him. The faint sound of music
    from the club opposite drifted into the street, reduced to
    little more than a primitive rhythm.
    The T-Bird's front grill mocked them both. Chrome teeth
    flashed with the misplaced superiority of a mistress. Skase
    placed a steadying hand on the front fender.
    Lucy whirled, and walked away from Quentin Skase for the
    last time.
    "Lucy!"
    High in the sky, a new star appeared. She wouldn't walk
    away from him again.
    Washington D.C.
    Nov 20, 1:15am
    The road ahead unraveled like dropped ribbon, damp and
    glittering under car headlights. Scully slowly awoke to the
    soft drone of the radio, and the faint rumble of tires as
    the car carried them back towards D.C.
    The beltway was unusually clear, even for so late at
    night. Mulder's lead foot made the best of it. He glanced
    in his partner's direction. "Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty."
    "I was just resting my eyes." Scully peered ahead,
    surprised to find them so close to home.
    "Well, I'm sure they're well rested." Mulder's lips curved
    into a grin.
    With a slight smile of attrition, Scully stretched her
    limbs as far as the cramped front seat of the Ford would
    allow, then glanced at her watch. 1:15 AM. "It's late.
    Skinner wants his report first thing tomorrow."
    "Skinner wants everything immediately. I don't see what's
    so important about another damn seminar. Interview
    techniques, indeed... I'm too old a dog for learning new
    tricks."
    Scully glanced over at him. "You look beat, Mulder. My
    place is closer. Stay there tonight, you'll be able to
    squeeze in a few extra hours sleep."
    Mulder raised an eyebrow. "Best offer I've had in a long
    time, Scully."
    "Oh?" Scully gave a slight grin, "Now I know you don't get
    out enough--" From the corner of her eye, she caught a
    flash of blue light from high in the sky. It turned to red,
    then white, expanding by the second. She blinked and looked
    again. It was still there, and growing.
    "What the...?" Mulder leaned forward, peering upward
    through the windshield. By the time he spoke again, the
    object was a brilliant fireball, streaking across the sky.
    "What the hell is that?" He slowed the car, more interested
    in the mysterious object than driving technique. "Plane?"
    "Meteor?" Even as Scully suggested it, she was ruling it
    out. Burning shrapnel peeled from the object, creating a
    fireworks display to rival the 4th of July. "No... Maybe
    you're right, a crashing plane?"
    Whatever it was, it was about to hit land -- and hit it a
    little too close for comfort.
    "Oh... Sh--" Mulder slammed on the brakes, catapulting
    them both forward only to be slammed back by their
    seatbelts.
    The fireball disappeared from view behind buildings a few
    blocks away, a sonic boom in its wake. Seconds later the
    sky lit up again, as the mysterious object came to its
    final resting place.
    Ash and dirt rained down.
    "Mulder... What the hell *was* that?" Scully flipped her
    hair off her forehead and took a steadying breath. Her
    heart raced.
    Mulder grabbed his cell phone and thumbed it on. Silence.
    No carrier. He swore under his breath and discarded the
    phone, then slammed the car into gear and stomped on the
    gas. The car jerked forward with a squeal of tires. "I
    don't know. But I'll bet you that was no plane, Scully..."
    Scully felt a headache begin to throb to the beat of her
    pulse.
    Washington D.C.
    Nov 20 1:20am
    Imposing granite statues of birds and winged beasts stood
    vigil, perched on the rooftops lining the street. They
    peered down on an area resembling a war zone. The faint
    sound of sirens called into the night, the caterwauling
    grew to a crescendo as a troop of fire trucks and
    ambulances arrived at the scene. A crowd gathered, huddled
    together and quiet. A few dazed individuals wandered
    aimlessly.
    Firemen called to each other over the clamor as they
    worked to extinguish a few small fires that sprang up on
    nearby rooftops. Another team worked on the main fire in
    the street. Acrid smoke thickened the air. It burned the
    throats of onlookers brave enough or stupid enough to get
    too close.
    The final police barricades were put into place as Mulder
    and Scully dashed through the chaos, trying to pinpoint the
    source of the explosion.
    They showed their badges at the barricade, using hands to
    shield their faces from the heat of the fire, but the
    grizzled cop standing guard shook his salt and pepper crew
    cut, and called out over the crackling of the flames.
    "Sorry, sir, ma'am. This area is quarantined. No one gets
    past this point 'til the HAZMAT team has been in first.
    Possible radiation danger. The military should be here any
    minute to begin the clean-up."
    "Radiation?" Mulder glanced at Scully, then back to the
    cop. "What happened here, Officer....?"
    "Ginelli. Marco Ginelli. A satellite came down..." He
    shrugged, "Sorry, that's all I've been told. Please, move
    back, agents."
    "Any casualties?" Scully asked.
    "A few minor injuries, one fatality. According to
    witnesses, a woman was hit by the debris." Ginelli nodded
    at the flaming wreckage, "They have yet to recover a body."
    He consulted a worn notebook, "Lucy Wong. Age twenty-eight.
    I spoke to her boyfriend," Ginelli's eyes flicked to
    indicate a man leaning against a vintage model Thunderbird.
    "Said his name is Quentin Skase. He's a little odd if you
    ask me..." The cop automatically lowered his voice,
    although the man was too far back to hear anything.
    "Odd?" Scully coughed as a brief wind change blew smoke in
    her face. She fished in a pocket and pulled out a
    handkerchief, and held it over her nose and mouth. "Odd
    how?"
    The veteran cop gave a shrug. "Just odd. Been on the job
    as long as I have you get a feel for it somehow. Talk to
    him and see for yourself."
    "Thank you," Scully acknowledged Ginelli with a nod and
    moved away.
    Mulder waited until they were out of earshot, glad to move
    into an area with relatively fresh air. "Do you believe
    that, Scully? A satellite would have to be the size of a
    truck to do this kind of damage... Every item orbiting the
    earth larger than a baseball is meticulously tracked... by
    the US, and Russia... and probably China. Add to that the
    fact that the chances of a satellite hitting a populated
    area are infinitesimal. Orbits can take decades at least,
    maybe hundreds of years to decay enough to pull and object
    back to Earth."
    "True... Satellites don't just drop out of the sky like
    acorns." Scully stuffed the handkerchief back in her pocket.
    Mulder raised an eyebrow. "You're agreeing with me?"
    "Not exactly... just because something seems improbable,
    that doesn't make it impossible." She looked out over the
    street. "Most of the fires seem to be out."
    Mulder checked his phone again, then shrugged, "No
    signal..." He clipped the cell back onto his belt and gave
    a grin. "So let's find out why the sky is falling, Chicken
    Little."
    Scully saw no reason to smile. On a nearby stretcher, a
    woman howled in panic. Despite the medic's reassurances,
    she seemed terrified.
    Scully tapped the paramedic on the shoulder. "Excuse me,
    I'm a doctor. Can I help?"
    The paramedic nodded. "Yes, ma'am! I can't find anything
    but contusions and abrasions, but she won't calm down."
    Scully leaned over the woman, checked her briefly, patted
    her hand. "No one is going to hurt you. It's over now.
    You're going to be fine, please calm down. What's your
    name?"
    "Joanna. Joanna Riggs." In the dim light, Scully could see
    she was young, twenty-five at the most. Her green eyes
    still shone with terror. "I saw it... must have been a
    spaceship...it was huge..."
    That got Mulder's attention. He edged closer. "Where were
    you? What did you see? Did anyone else see it?"
    The woman on the stretcher cried out then stuffed a
    scraped hand into her mouth, "Don't let him come near me! I
    don't know how... he called it down..." Her hand flopped
    from her mouth to fall to her side, limp. "I saw him
    waiting..."
    "Who?" Scully prompted, "Who do you mean?"
    Joanna paused, then lifted a finger off the stretcher and
    pointed at the lone man standing by the white Thunderbird.
    She curled the finger quickly back into her fist and
    hissed, "Skase. Keep him away from me!"
    Mulder glanced over in Quentin Skase's direction, dug a
    business card out of his pocket and forced it into the
    woman's grasp. "Don't worry. We'll keep him away. What
    exactly did you see?"
    "Mulder... this isn't the time or the place." Scully
    glanced up at him, brow wrinkled.
    He paused, then looked down at the woman. "You've got my
    number. If you're in trouble, call me. Is it okay if I come
    and see you tomorrow so we can talk some more?"
    Joanna clutched his card tightly in one fist, and nodded.
    Scully motioned for the paramedic to take her to the
    ambulance.
    "Told you that wasn't a satellite, Scully."
    "And I was tempted to agree on face value..." Scully
    watched as the ambulance started up and picked its way
    carefully down the street, flashing lights painting red and
    blue swathes on the drab scenery. "I'll need a little more
    convincing than the word of a woman who was clearly
    hysterical before jumping to the conclusion that was a UFO
    full of little gray men, Mulder."
    As she spoke, at least a dozen olive drab Humvees filled
    with soldiers descended upon the area. They slammed to a
    halt and two squads of the camouflaged men scattered into a
    loose perimeter, weapons slung over a shoulder, muzzle
    down. They immediately began herding the crowd back, and a
    third squad made short work of putting up tarps and tents
    to hide the debris from view.
    "Oh yeah?" Mulder tipped his head and studied the action.
    "Then what's under the Big Top?"
    "Has it not occurred to you, that it might be a top-secret
    military satellite?"
    Mulder gave her a sardonic grin, "That's my Scully. Always
    looking for the obvious." He turned his back on the action
    and gazed thoughtfully at the white Thunderbird. "Let's see
    what our Mr. Skase has to say about all this."
    Quentin Skase leaned against his car, head now in his
    hands. Scully displayed her badge to him, her voice gentle,
    "Mr. Skase, I'm Special Agent Dana Scully, and this is my
    partner, Agent Mulder. We're sorry for your loss, sir. Can
    you tell us what happened?"
    Skase was blonde; hair short and neatly combed, doe eyes
    red-rimmed and tearful. Scully thought him the neatest
    accident victim she'd ever seen. Not a hair out of place,
    or a streak of dirt on his crisp white shirt. Even the
    crease in his trousers looked fresh. She caught herself
    exchanging a glance with Mulder. He nodded in agreement
    with her unvoiced observations.
    Skase wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and
    straightened slowly, paused before he spoke. "One minute
    she was there... the next... something came out of the
    sky..."
    "Did you see what it was?" Mulder asked.
    Skase sniffled. "It was metal... like a plane... but not a
    plane. I don't know."
    "A satellite?" Scully suggested.
    "I don't know... might have been..." Skase reached over,
    absently picked a stray thread from her shoulder. Scully
    edged back to put more space between her and the man.
    Mulder gestured toward the Thunderbird, "'59 hardtop." He
    ran a finger over the smooth paintwork. "Yours?"
    Skase nodded, and tugged a handkerchief out of his pocket.
    At first, Mulder expected he was going to dry his eyes.
    Instead he concentrated on the car and buffed over the
    faint smear left by Mulder's touch. "This is Zelda. Re-
    built her myself, almost from scratch." A spark seemed to
    ignite in Skase, as if the evening's events were forgotten.
    He gave another rub of the paint with the handkerchief and
    smiled down at the car.
    "She's a beauty, all right." Mulder studied the other man,
    then glanced at his fingertip, holding it up to show Scully.
    She noted the lack of dust or dirt and gave a minute nod,
    picking up Mulder's drift. Skase had some obsessive-
    compulsive tendencies, at least where the car was concerned.
    "Lucky she wasn't parked up the road a little further,"
    Mulder commented.
    A ragged moan of pain caused both agents to turn. A dark
    haired young woman staggered out of the crowd, clothes torn
    and face blackened. With a pained howl, she clutched the
    hood of the car for support. Blood smeared the shiny white
    paint.
    Skase cringed, face pinched and eyes dilating.
    Mulder moved to put an arm around the woman's shoulders in
    support, then stopped when he saw her torn bicep. She
    sobbed in relief and groped at Mulder's hand. "Uh,
    Scully...?"
    "Please..." the woman begged, "It hurts... make it stop..."
    "You're injured..." Scully ran a hand down her arm, and
    stopped when she noticed a piece of shrapnel glittering in
    her arm. "You'll be okay, let's get you to a hospital...
    come with me."
    Scully guided the woman to an ambulance. She waited as the
    paramedics treated her, and got her onto a stretcher,
    smiling once in a while to lend what moral support she
    could.
    "We're ready to go now, ma'am."
    Scully nodded, and bent over the girl, gave her another
    reassuring smile. "They're going to take you to the
    hospital. Don't worry, you'll be fine."
    The young woman gave Scully a wan smile in return.
    As Scully returned to where Mulder stood, a panicked yell
    went up from the crowd, followed by a crumbling roar.
    Mulder dove, and brought Scully to the ground with a crash.
    Seconds later there was a tremendous cracking sound as a
    large decorative statue dislodged from the top of the
    adjacent building. It swooped into the air as gracefully as
    any bird of flesh and blood, and landed directly on the
    departing ambulance. With the sound of tortured metal and
    breaking glass, the vehicle ground to a halt.
    An eerie silence descended for a few seconds, while people
    realized what they had witnessed. Soon the noise returned,
    as the crowd let out a mutual wail of panic. Military
    personnel rushed to the crushed vehicle. They looked inside
    the shattered remains, then backed away, shaking their
    heads.
    Mulder stood and brushed the debris from his clothes. He
    glanced behind him. Skase leaned against the T-Bird,
    watching with a blank expression. The car was dust-free. So
    was Skase.
    Mulder continued to watch the man and his car, intrigued,
    as he put a hand down to help Scully to her feet.
    Scully brushed as much debris as she could off her filthy
    clothes. "Thanks, Mulder... you do realize that your heroic
    gesture was wasted... that statue would have pulverized the
    both of us." Her voice trailed off as she followed Mulder's
    gaze. Skase looked back at her. And smiled. Scully averted
    her eyes and brushed at her jacket. "Look what it did to
    the ambulance..."
    "Gee, Scully... You're right. Next time I'm out, remind me
    to take my umbrella."
    All Saints Private Hospital
    Georgetown,
    Nov 21, 9:25AM
    Mulder pulled into the car park of the stately private
    hospital, killed the engine and glanced over at Scully. "Go
    on, say it..."
    "Why are we here?"
    "You heard what Joanna said, Scully... she may be able to
    help us. I must have made a dozen phone calls this morning,
    and the only information I can get about the debris from
    last night is that it's classified and the military took
    all of it."
    "Which is the exact answer you'd get if it was a satellite."
    "So humor me." Mulder climbed from the car, waited on her,
    then locked the doors before heading for the entrance.
    Scully trailed. "OK. Just remember you owe me. After this
    turns out to be a wild goose chase, you can buy me a cup of
    coffee. And lunch."
    As they headed for the elevator, Mulder spotted a familiar
    car. "Well, well, what have we here?" He nodded towards the
    white T-Bird parked in an adjacent row.
    "That looks like Skase's car." Scully gave Mulder a
    curious glance as she pressed the up button. "Perhaps I'll
    use my impressive powers of deduction and guess he's
    visiting a sick friend?"
    The elevator arrived with a quiet ding, and they stepped
    on. The Thunderbird was they last thing they saw as the
    doors slid shut.
    Arriving on the mezzanine, they stepped off and glanced
    around. Despite the elegant surroundings, the smell of
    disinfectant was pervasive. There was an expensive foyer,
    with large sweeping staircases on either side of the
    elaborate mahogany reception desk. Classical music purred
    in the background.
    "Remind me to update my medical insurance," Mulder
    commented as they made their way towards reception.
    Scully showed her badge. "Special Agent Dana Scully, FBI.
    This is Agent Mulder. We'd like to see Joanna Riggs. She
    would have been admitted last night."
    Mulder glanced around and saw Skase waiting by the other
    bank of elevators. He was busy scribbling something on a
    piece of paper and didn't look up.
    The perfectly coiffed receptionist tapped her computer
    terminal with a lavender nail, "Room 318. Third floor. You
    can take the stairs."
    As they approached the stairs, a blood-curdling scream
    stopped them in their tracks. Moments later there was a
    sickening thud, as a patient landed heavily on the Italian
    marble floor.
    Mulder looked up to see where she had come from. An
    orderly was yelling over the edge, standing by an
    overturned lunch cart. From the man's almost incoherent
    babbling, Mulder deduced he'd accidentally knocked the
    unfortunate patient over the safety rail. It must have been
    60 feet to the ground. He grimaced and looked back to the
    patient now lying on the floor. She looked like nothing
    more than a loose pile of rags. Mulder hit the stairs three
    at a time to catch up with the orderly and get his story.
    Scully went in the other direction, rushing to the woman's
    side and checking her pulse. It was faint, but there. She
    called out. "Head injuries. Get a crash cart and a
    backboard in here! Stat!" She noticed the woman clutched a
    business card in one hand.
    Scully tugged the card loose and sucked in a breath as she
    recognized it. Mulder's. She looked at the woman again.
    Joanna Riggs.
    Joanna grabbed at her in a vise-like grip, nails biting
    into Scully's wrist. "Skase..." she breathed, "He's taken
    a... liking to you... don't let him... in."
    Scully frowned, but didn't get a chance to ask for more
    information. She was ushered away by a phalanx of medics,
    yelling instructions.
    Mulder headed back down the stairs and caught up with her.
    "You look like you've seen a ghost."
    "Ghost?" Scully shrugged it off, "No, that's Joanna Riggs.
    She intimated that Skase might have been responsible. Do
    you think he's somehow covering his tracks? After what she
    said to us last night?"
    Mulder frowned. "He was standing over at the elevator at
    the time. I saw him, so I can't see how he could have done
    it. Besides, I spoke to the orderly, it was an accident. A
    cart got away from him, collided with her, and pushed her
    over the edge. The poor guy is beside himself."
    "Excuse me. I'm looking for Agent Scully." The wide eyed
    candy striper spoke timidly, eyes darting from Mulder to
    the injured woman on the floor.
    "That's me." Scully answered, "What is it?"
    She offered Scully a small envelope, "A man asked me to
    give this to you."
    Scully took the envelope, gave Mulder a curious glance as
    she watched the volunteer walk away. She tugged a small
    piece of notepaper from the envelope and read it out.
    "'Agent Scully, I'm very sorry we didn't get the chance to
    meet today. We'll talk soon.' It's signed, Quentin."
    Mulder took the slip of paper from her, "Cheeky. He's
    hopeful."
    Scully didn't reply. She watched the team of doctors
    working on Joanna stop, shake their heads, and stand.
    Scully wasn't going to get the chance to clarify what the
    woman had said to her.
    J Edgar Hoover Building
    Basement
    Nov 21, 2:10PM
    "Considering the circumstances surrounding last night,
    I've managed a day's grace on getting Skinner's reports in."
    "Hmmm... that's good Scully..." Mulder didn't lift his
    eyes from the folder he was reading.
    "So I thought we could try and get it out of the way this
    afternoon."
    "Fine..."
    Scully rolled her eyes. "Then we gave his secretary the
    day off and spent the whole morning going at it like
    rabbits."
    Mulder kept reading, "That's good..." After a moment he
    looked up, "What?!"
    "So you *are* listening." Scully smiled unpleasantly.
    "Yes... Skinner wants his report tomorrow. I'll be bright-
    eyed and bushy-tailed. I promise." Mulder sat up, "I've
    been doing some checking on Quentin Skase."
    "Why?" Scully shuddered. "Just being creepy doesn't
    usually warrant an FBI investigation."
    "Because I'm not convinced what we saw last night was a
    satellite, and after what happened this morning at the
    hospital, I'm even more convinced he knows something he's
    not telling us."
    "I still think it was a satellite." Scully drummed her
    fingers against the top of her desk, "So what have you
    found?"
    Mulder blew out a breath. "Nothing. He's twenty-nine, an
    accountant for USTEL, a Northeast communications company.
    Went to NYU, graduated middle of his class. Both parents
    deceased, and he inherited the family home. No siblings. He
    spent a few months in a private clinic not long after his
    mother's death. Not much info on that though."
    "Nothing sounds particularly unusual so far."
    "No..." Mulder closed the folder and rubbed a hand over
    his face. "You're probably right, Scully. I'm trying to see
    things that aren't there."
    The conversation was interrupted by the shrill of a cell
    phone. They checked automatically. "Mine" Scully answered
    it. "Scully."
    Mulder tipped back in his chair and waited.
    "Mr. Skase?" Scully glanced over at Mulder and repeated
    for his benefit, "You'd like to meet later this evening to
    talk about last night...?"
    Keen to seize the opportunity, Mulder nodded to encourage
    her agreement.
    "OK. Where...?" Scully paused, nodding to herself, "Yes,
    That's not far from here. I'll see you at seven. Bye." She
    tucked her phone away.
    Mulder chuckled to himself and sat down at his desk.
    "Something amusing?"
    "Scully's got a boyyyy-friend."
    Scully groaned and rolled her eyes, "That's what I like
    about you Mulder, I can always count on you to raise the
    tone of any given moment."
    McNally's Bar,
    Downtown Washington D.C.
    Nov 21, 7:10PM
    The bar Skase suggested as a meeting place was close to
    the office, so Mulder and Scully decided the walk would do
    them good. The evening was crisp and clear; the temperature
    low enough to see your breath in the air.
    It was still too early for nightlife, but lowlifes were
    out in force. The bar they turned into was dingy, even the
    low lighting couldn't hide the fact its last refit must
    have been sometime during the mid-70s. The dark-pink velvet
    upholstery was more threadbare than plush. The nearly
    deserted lounge held a table of girls out for a drink
    together after work, and a few men at the bar who looked
    like they'd been glued to the same stools all day.
    Scully's nose twitched as the smell of stale beer and
    urine drifted in from the men's restrooms. The perfect
    start to a perfect evening. She stamped on the spot a
    moment and rubbed her frigid hands together, then loosened
    her overcoat.
    Skase was easy to spot. He didn't quite seem to fit in
    with the crowd -- maybe it was the blazer with an array of
    pens peeking out of the pocket, or his tie, still sporting
    a perfect Windsor knot.
    Mulder gave Scully a nudge and pointed. They headed to
    where he was waiting at the bar.
    Skase stood to greet them, took Scully's hand and kissed it.
    Scully's eyebrows rose nearly as high as Mulder's hackles.
    She did her best to extricate her hand from Skase's grasp
    without appearing to be rude, then covertly wiped it on her
    pants.
    "I didn't expect we'd have company." Skase looked at
    Mulder, then turned his attention to Scully. "I was hoping
    we could discuss things over dinner... then perhaps go for
    a drive..."
    "Scully has plans for dinner already." Mulder pulled up a
    stool and waved at the bartender for service, then helped
    himself to a handful of complimentary nuts. "You suggested
    you had information? About the incident last night?"
    Skase gave a small nod, "I work for USTEL. I knew you were
    both curious about what happened, so I pulled in a few
    favors and asked around. They did lose a satellite last
    night."
    Mulder chewed on the mouthful of dusty nuts, swallowed
    before continuing, "That's not the only favor you pulled
    in. How did you get Scully's phone number?"
    "It's not a private number, Agent Mulder." Skase looked a
    little put off, "I looked it up in our database." He smiled
    pleasantly at Scully, "I thought I was doing you a favor."
    She responded with a half-hearted smile of her own, "Thank
    you, Mr. Skase. You have been helpful."
    He widened his smile. "Then join me for dinner."
    "Ah... no, thank you." Scully gave Mulder a quick glance,
    but he was preoccupied ordering a drink.
    "I could show you Zelda."
    "Zelda?" Scully stared daggers into Mulder's back.
    "My car... I built her myself."
    Scully folded her arms. "Thank you, but I've seen plenty
    of T-Birds."
    "Not *this* one." Skase looked disappointed. "At least
    allow me to buy you a drink."
    Mulder turned back from the bar, and handed a beer to
    Scully. He looked at Skase, "You didn't say what you were
    drinking."
    "I'm not." Skase sounded somewhat disgruntled, but added,
    "Thanks."
    "I must admit, Quentin, I'm a little confused as to why
    you'd go to the trouble to confirm with us exactly what
    happened last night." Mulder paused, then downed his drink
    in one swig. "Why is it so important we believe it was a
    satellite?"
    "I didn't say it was important." Skase frowned, "and I
    really don't care what you believe... I just wanted to be
    helpful... for Dana."
    Scully had had enough. She slammed her beer onto the bar
    and glared at Mulder. "Are you coming?" She headed for the
    door.
    Mulder stood, and added purely for Skase's benefit,
    "Coming, dear."
    As he followed Scully out the door, he tripped on a piece
    of ragged carpet, only just saving himself from falling
    over with a few ungainly contortions. He composed himself
    and continued on his way, pride the only casualty.
    Scully's Apartment
    Georgetown
    Nov 21, 7:15PM
    Scully's feet ached as she climbed the stairs to her
    apartment. She'd seen enough in the past few days to last
    her a lifetime. All tragic incidents, sure, but she
    couldn't see exactly what it was that made Mulder so
    interested in trying to find something that wasn't there.
    As much as she loved him, she wasn't beyond finding him
    extremely exasperating.
    She paused at her front door, key in hand. On the floor in
    front of the door sat an elaborate flower arrangement, a
    symphony of bright color. Scully pulled the card from the
    arrangement and read it. It was one simple sentence, with
    no signature.
    'I forgot to say thank-you.'
    She smiled to herself, picked up the flowers, and let
    herself into the apartment. Although it was very unlike
    Mulder to show such sentiment, he could be thoughtful at
    the most unexpected times. Smiling to herself, Scully
    headed for the kitchen to put the flowers into some water.
    That done, she settled into a seat and kicked off her
    shoes, picked up the phone, and dialed.
    "Mulder."
    "Thank you, Mulder." Scully put up her feet, still
    admiring the fresh vase of flowers now taking pride of
    place on her coffee table. "You're full of surprises."
    "Anytime..." Mulder paused. "Uh, Scully? What did I do?"
    "The flowers. They're beautiful."
    "Uh..." The silence lengthened. "What flowers?"
    Scully felt her face flush, "You mean... you didn't send
    them?"
    "Well... as much as I'd like to take the credit... No. I
    didn't send you flowers."
    "Oh." Even though she couldn't see him, she could almost
    hear Mulder grinning like an idiot.
    "What's this? A secret admirer? Intriguing..."
    "Not so secret. It must be Skase." Scully heaved a sigh.
    "What is it about the word 'no' he doesn't understand?"
    "Is he turning into a problem? I don't like it... he must
    have got your address from the phone company records."
    "Nothing I can't handle. 'Night, Mulder. I'll see you
    tomorrow."
    "You're sure?"
    "I'm sure. Goodbye, Mulder." Scully hung up the phone, and
    stared at the flowers a little longer.
    Then she got up, picked up the vase, and walked back to
    the kitchen.
    The flowers went straight into the trash.
    J Edgar Hoover Building
    Basement,
    Nov 22, 12:50PM
    Mulder studied the information laid out on his desk. There
    was something going on --while he couldn't really tie
    anything into UFO and cover-up conspiracies, something
    niggled, and forced him to keep looking.
    His cell phone rang. He pushed his chair out from the desk
    and answered. "Mulder."
    It was Frohike. "Hey, Mulder. Haven't heard from you for a
    while. I was starting to feel neglected."
    "Yeah... well..." Mulder leaned back in his chair and put
    his feet on the desk, "I've been busy."
    "How are you?"
    "I'm fine."
    "Ahem. And the lovely and talented Agent Scully?"
    "She's fine, too." Mulder's foot jiggled impatiently, "Did
    you get the message I left this morning?"
    "Yep. I checked into it for you, but to be honest there
    wasn't much to check. We already knew we'd lost a
    satellite. There was no cell phone communication in that
    area for quite a few hours until they managed to re-route
    all the traffic."
    Mulder raised his eyebrows. "That *really* was a
    satellite? How could that have happened?"
    "Long odds, I admit. As far as we can tell, a meteorite
    hit a communications satellite. A small one, but enough to
    wipe out its telemetry and knock it straight out of orbit.
    The re-entry angle was so steep that there just wasn't
    enough time to recover it."
    "Are you *sure* about this?" Mulder tapped his pencil
    against his desk, fidgeting as he waited for an answer.
    "Yep. It was USTEL-4 to be exact. We were using it at the
    time. It went down at 12:57 PM, and was not heard of again
    until it ended up decorating the pavement in downtown D.C."
    "Okay, Frohike..." Mulder frowned to himself, deep in
    thought, "Thanks for the info."
    "Anytime. Say, how about we get together and--"
    Mulder hung up the phone, still thinking. He looked over
    the information spread out on his desk one more time. It
    was about time he paid Mr. Skase a visit.
    Chevy Chase, MD
    Nov 22, 10:45AM
    Primrose Lane was a fine example of affluent suburbia.
    Neat homes and tidy yards lined the street, dusted with
    newly-fallen snow. He was sure he'd seen it before on a
    Christmas card.
    Mulder brought his car to a stop, and peered out the
    window at the pre-war cottage marked number 25. Missing
    from the driveway was the Thunderbird he expected to be
    there. He guessed he wouldn't find Skase at home.
    He climbed from the car, walked past the picture-book
    white picket fence, then followed a path lined by perfectly
    symmetric hedges to reach the front steps.
    He rang the doorbell and waited. No answer. A fat tabby
    cat perched on a window ledge nearby, blinking at him
    through sleepy eyes.
    Mulder got up close to the window and looked inside. The
    interior was immaculate. It looked like a cover for Better
    Homes and Gardens. No man should live that neatly. It was
    unnatural.
    "You won't find Quentin in today," A quavering voice
    drifted over from next door.
    Mulder trotted back down the steps and looked over the
    fence. An elderly woman stood nearby, tending to her bare
    rose bushes. "Do you know where he is?" Mulder asked.
    The woman gave a nod, and moved to the fence, "Terrible
    business about Lucy... she was such a sweet girl..." She
    tugged off one gardening glove, then offered her hand over
    the fence, "Hilda Desmond."
    "Fox Mulder." He shook her hand carefully, and agreed for
    the sake of conversation, "Yes, terrible..."
    Hilda looked him over again before dropping his hand. "Are
    you from the funeral home?"
    "Uh... no." Mulder glanced down at his dark suit, not sure
    if he should continue.
    "Government, then?"
    "FBI." Mulder showed his badge.
    Hilda clutched at her collar in surprise. "My goodness."
    "Nothing to be alarmed about, ma'am, I just wanted to ask
    Mr. Skase a few questions about the accident... all very
    routine."
    "Quentin is spending the day with Lucy's family." She
    shook her head, although the tight curls set into her gray
    locks managed to remain rock solid. "That poor boy never
    seems to get a break. Lost his mother in a freak
    accident... must have been five years ago now. I remember
    because he'd just bought that car of his. Total wreck it
    was at the time too, though you'd never know it now. He's
    always washing and polishing the thing..."
    "I'm sorry to hear that. What happened to his mother?"
    "Daphne? It came out of the blue, that's for sure. She was
    hit by a fly ball at one of Quentin's baseball games. Don't
    think he's played since."
    Mulder tried not to raise an eyebrow at her story. "Tragic."
    "Then he took up with a nice girl a year or so later..."
    Hilda frowned as she remembered, "she was killed in a car
    accident I believe. Now this..."
    Mulder frowned to himself, "Do you remember the name of
    the girl?"
    "Yes, Gabby... Gabby Albright."
    "Well, thank-you. I'll catch up with Quentin later." He
    took a step, but then paused, and looked back at Hilda,
    "Just one other thing, Mrs. Desmond. Have you ever heard of
    a woman called Joanna Riggs?"
    "Yes... I'm surprised I haven't seen her around here
    since... She's Lucy's best friend."
    "Thanks." Mulder waved, and headed down the driveway to
    his car, then gave his watch a quick check.
    He was late. Scully was going to chew his ear when he
    finally arrived back at the office, but the flaying would
    have to wait. He still had one more stop to make.
    Lazarus Deli
    Washington D.C.
    Nov 22, 12:45PM
    The smell of fresh bagels overpowered Scully's senses. She
    admired the array of food displayed through the deli's
    glass counter, her stomach growling in anticipation.
    "You should try the foccacia," a male voice came from
    behind her, "I hear it comes highly recommended."
    Feeling his breath on the back of her neck, Scully turned.
    Annoyed, to find herself face to face with Quentin Skase,
    she kept her response cool. "Thank you. I think I can
    choose my own lunch."
    "You look like a ham on rye girl." Skase leaned against
    the counter.
    "What are you doing here?" Scully folded her arms.
    "Getting lunch. I work nearby."
    Scully had seen the reports Mulder had collected. Skase
    was lying. "Look... Mr. Skase... Quentin."
    "Call me Que, all my friends do."
    "That's the point, Mr. Skase. We aren't friends. I'm sure
    you're a very nice man... Flattering as all your attention
    may be--"
    "Did you get the flowers I sent? Beautiful, weren't they?
    Just like you."
    "Please. Let's not--"
    "A beautiful woman such as yourself needs a man to--"
    "I do not *need* a man." Scully gritted her teeth.
    Skase looked surprised, then laughed. "You have a
    boyfriend? Surely not that slob the Bureau has you tramping
    around with all day?"
    "That's none of your business," Scully flushed, both with
    anger and frustration, "and beside the point." She turned,
    faced him squarely. "I'm only going to say this once. Your
    advances are not wanted, nor are they appreciated. Please,
    just stay out of my life. No calls, no notes, no flowers."
    "But, Dana..."
    Her appetite suddenly lost, Scully didn't wait to order
    lunch. Instead she turned and walked out into the street.
    Skase let her go without another word, but his expression
    told of his displeasure.
    No one walks away from Quentin Skase.
    J Edgar Hoover Building
    Basement
    Nov 22, 1:30PM
    Mulder swung into the office, whistling.
    "Where have you been?" Scully pounced, "I've spent the
    whole morning making excuses for you. Don't you know what a
    phone is?"
    "Sorry... I've been at the library. You gave Skinner the
    report on our thrilling, seminar-filled weekend?"
    "Yes, Mulder, I covered your sorry butt... again."
    He gave her a contrite smile. "Thanks, Scully. I owe you
    one..." Mulder tugged off his jacket, "I was making a few
    inquiries."
    "Why?" Scully folded her arms across her chest. "Don't
    tell me you *still* think that was a UFO... every official
    report I've seen, including the newspapers, are all saying
    it was a satellite re-entering."
    "Actually, no. I've confirmed it was a satellite after all."
    "Oh? And exactly *how* did you confirm that?"
    "Frohike told me."
    "So that somehow makes it 'official'?" Scully dropped into
    her seat and muttered, "Honestly, sometimes I wonder why I
    even bother coming in in the morning."
    "Take a look at this, Scully." Mulder passed her the
    folder he was holding. "How many co-incidences does it take
    before you can no longer call them co-incidences?"
    Unimpressed, Scully opened the folder and picked up the
    first news clipping from the top of the pile. "Skase's
    mother was killed in a freak accident at a ballpark...
    So...?"
    Mulder pointed to the next clipping in the pile. "And his
    last girlfriend was hit by a car."
    Scully shrugged. "Stranger things have happened."
    "Keep reading, Scully... she was getting a bikini wax at
    the time." Mulder kept digging through the pile, "and look
    at this, a former manager from USTEL was killed when a
    plate-glass window fell onto him from the 30th floor of a
    skyscraper."
    "So you're suggesting..." Scully skimmed through the news
    clippings, "that somehow Skase managed to orchestrate these
    accidents?"
    "Not exactly," Mulder leaned against her desk, "I didn't
    find much more on that hospital stay of his, except that he
    was suffering paranoia. The hospital records are sealed,
    but I did come across a record of interview following his
    mother's death. According to the interviewing officer,
    Skase was convinced he'd done it. In fact, he was pretty
    much convinced that every time someone stubbed a toe it was
    his fault."
    "I'm not sure I'm following you..."
    "Think about it Scully... look at that list of accidents
    in front of you. Every person on that list could
    conceivably been seen as a source of frustration, or
    repressed anger for Skase. His mother, girlfriends, boss -
    even that poor woman who had the audacity to bleed all over
    his precious car."
    "You want me to believe these accidents are a by-product
    of Skase's frustrations?" Scully's brow furrowed, "His
    wrath unleashed in some kind of bizarre physical
    manifestation?"
    Mulder nodded, "You got it, Scully."
    She shook her head, "I'll buy that he might somehow bring
    these tragedies on himself, by expecting the worst... but
    I'd really like to know how to arrange for a satellite to
    drop on someone's head, Mulder, even using mind control."
    She looked up at him, pinched the bridge of her nose in a
    vain attempt to quell the headache looming behind her eyes,
    "If I knew, I might even try it myself sometime."
    Mulder smiled sheepishly. "I'm really wishing I'd sent you
    those flowers now."
    Scully closed the folder and looked squarely at him. "Is
    that what this is about, Mulder?"
    "Is what what this is about?"
    "You know... Skase. Leaving me notes... sending me
    flowers." She decided not to mention their encounter at
    lunchtime. Her voice softened, "You don't have to get...
    well... jealous..."
    Mulder's jaw dropped. He shut his mouth and shook his head
    emphatically. "No, that's not it. Take a look at the file
    again, Scully. You'll agree there's a little more to it
    than just me being an ass."
    "You're not an ass, Mulder. Usually."
    "I am." He gave her a soulful look. "But read the file
    anyway."
    Scully's apartment
    Georgetown
    Nov 24, 7:45PM
    There was a time when the last person Scully wanted to
    spend her Friday nights with was Mulder. Not anymore. Now
    she found herself looking forward to it. She couldn't even
    pinpoint the exact time when she'd changed her mind -
    someway, somehow, he'd managed to get under her skin. He
    made a few beers and a B-Grade movie seem like a fun night
    out.
    But Friday seemed to take forever to roll around. Every
    day Scully returned home that week, there were messages
    from Skase waiting on her answering machine. She deleted
    them all without even bothering to listen first, but they
    kept coming. She'd taken to keeping her cell phone switched
    off to avoid being bothered during the day. The stress was
    beginning to take its toll.
    Changed into jeans and a casual sweater, she checked
    herself in the mirror before heading into the living room,
    ready to go. The doorbell made her jump. Quietly she
    checked the peephole. Skase.
    Bile rose into her throat. Instinctively, she reached for
    her gun. A little attention from the opposite sex now and
    then could be flattering. Too much attention from a man
    with a psychiatric history of paranoia and a string of dead
    girlfriends was a different matter all together. Unwilling
    to answer the door, she remained silent, hoping he'd assume
    she wasn't home.
    He knocked again. "Agent Scully? Dana?"
    Scully held her breath and waited. Her ploy worked, and
    she soon heard his footsteps retreating. Relieved, she gave
    him another few minutes head start before grabbing her coat
    and keys and heading for the door.
    Outside, she crossed the street and climbed into her car.
    As she guided her car into the traffic, Skase was forgotten
    as she looked forward to a relaxing evening. Maybe she'd
    pick up some Chinese food on the way.
    She didn't notice the white T-Bird pull out after her.
    Mulder's Apartment
    Virginia
    Nov 24, 8:30PM
    Mulder sat up on the couch at the sound of a key in his
    door. "Hey, Scully ... I smell something good..."
    A few moments later Scully joined him in the living room,
    dumping a few cartons of Chinese take-out onto the coffee
    table from a greasy brown bag. Sweet and Sour Pork, and
    General Tso's Chicken. Fried rice and a couple egg rolls.
    Two fortune cookies. "I know I'd suggested I might cook for
    a change..." Scully didn't turn to look at him, just busied
    herself opening the soggy containers, "but it's been a long
    week..."
    Mulder nodded, "All that paperwork on seminars *can* be
    trying..."
    Scully let out a quiet sigh and her shoulders sagged.
    "Has Skase been bothering you?"
    "Not really... well..." She relented, "maybe a little..."
    Mulder reached over and rubbed her shoulder, waiting for
    her to continue.
    Scully gave up fiddling with the food containers in favor
    of leaning back into his arms. She closed her eyes and
    stayed quiet a moment, taking comfort in his proximity,
    feeling the day's tension begin to wane. "He's been calling
    me constantly, coming round to my apartment, arranging to
    'bump' in to me on the street."
    "I didn't realize it had got that bad. Why didn't you say
    anything til now?" Mulder rested his chin on the top of her
    head, "Tell his boss. The only way he could have got your
    phone number would have been by using his connections at
    work. He's got to be breaking Federal privacy laws for a
    start."
    "No... I don't want this to escalate any more than it
    already has. He'll give up when he realizes how futile it
    all is."
    "Are you sure? I could talk to him if you like."
    "You?" Scully turned her head a moment to look at him,
    then settled back again, "What would you tell him?"
    Mulder grinned mischievously and muttered in her ear,
    "I'll tell him all about your boyfriend... the big, bad,
    handsome, and well-armed FBI agent."
    "You forgot modest." She laughed softly. "I suppose it
    doesn't matter how much of that is actually true."
    "Nope... as long as it gets him out of your hair."
    Scully closed her eyes. "I don't want to think about it
    now. Turn on the movie."
    Mulder hit the remote, then helped himself to a fortune
    cookie. He snapped it open, then read the little slither of
    wisdom contained within.
    "So what does it say?" Scully sat up, spiked a piece of
    chicken with a plastic fork, and popped it into her mouth.
    "Good things come to those who wait..." Mulder grinned and
    settled back on the couch.
    By the time the movie was over, Scully was asleep.
    Deciding not to disturb her, Mulder tugged the blanket over
    them both. He took the opportunity to study her; when she
    slept, she looked so childlike and peaceful. He pressed his
    lips to the top of her head a moment, then snapped off the
    lamp on the table beside him and settled down.
    Outside in the street, Skase waited. He peered up at the
    apartment building and waited. And waited. Several times he
    got out of the Thunderbird and paced the sidewalk, only to
    return to the car and wait some more. Towards dawn, he gave
    up, pulled his car into the deserted street, and headed for
    home.
    A truck passed from the other direction, its enormous
    wheels kicking up a flurry of sticky mud that splattered
    against the side of the white car.
    From barely a block behind, he heard the sickening crunch
    of metal on metal and the sound of breaking glass, the
    result of an accident at the previous intersection. Even
    when his car rocked, caught in the blast wave from the
    explosion behind him, he didn't bother to look back.
    The sound of car horns wafted in from the window, waking
    Mulder with a rude start. Doing his best to avoid waking
    Scully, he extricated himself from his position on the
    couch and headed for the window.
    His quiet street looked like a parking lot. He peered up
    the road as best as he could, but was unable to see the
    cause of the problem from his vantage point. Curious, he
    sat down and started putting his runners on.
    "A little early, even for you, isn't it?" Scully rubbed
    her eyes and squinted at the clock.
    "There's something going on down the street, an accident
    or something. I'm just going to take a look. Get some more
    sleep."
    Scully pushed off the blanket and slipped on her shoes, "I
    better come too."
    He raised an eyebrow, "Don't trust me to go to the end of
    the street on my own?"
    "Apart from that," Scully grinned slightly, "If it is an
    accident, they might need a doctor."
    "OK." Mulder got to his feet and handed Scully her
    overcoat. She tugged on the coat and followed him out into
    the faint morning light.
    They followed the string of halted traffic and irate
    drivers to the source of the problem. Scully's jaw dropped
    as the sight in front of her sank in. One tanker of pure
    polyunsaturated vegetable oil had collided with a smaller
    truck with a consignment of what looked to be ...frozen
    french fries.
    It even smelled good. In the absence of breakfast, and
    much to her chagrin, her stomach growled. She continued to
    watch as the clean-up crew swept away the fries, each one
    golden brown and done to perfection. "Mulder, tell me I'm
    seeing things...."
    A strong wind sprang up, blowing more french fries from
    the surrounding rooftops.
    Scully raised both eyebrows and stated the obvious,
    "Mulder... it's *raining* french fries."
    "Shoestring, my favorite." Mulder's brow furrowed a moment
    and he looked back at Scully. "He was here, Scully. Skase
    was here. Spying on us. Son of a bitch..." He turned and
    headed back towards the apartment.
    Scully followed, running a few steps to catch up, "Where
    are you going?"
    "To see Skase. I can't stop him from doing... whatever the
    hell it is he's doing... but I can certainly persuade him
    to leave you out of it."
    "Mulder..." Scully opted not to follow. There'd be no
    stopping him.
    Chevy Chase
    Maryland
    Nov 25, 9.35AM
    Mulder parked his car close enough to Skase's house to
    watch for a while from the driver's seat without being
    noticed.
    Skase was washing his car. In fact, he'd been washing it
    for almost 30 minutes already. Considering how cold it was
    outside, Mulder thought that alone the work of a madman.
    The water steamed as it flowed over the white Thunderbird,
    heated from an unknown source. The cooled water at the
    bottom of the drive formed ice particles.
    Shivering, Mulder thumped the car heater in disgust. The
    damn thing never worked. He breathed on his hands, trying
    to remove the numbness beginning to creep over his fingers.
    The evil streak in Mulder hoped for sleet, but when he
    checked the sky, it was clear.
    ...And Skase kept on washing that car. Now and then the
    fat tabby cat would wander over to him and nuzzle up
    against his legs, and Skase would pause in his labors long
    enough to tickle it around the ears. Once, Mrs. Desmond put
    her head over the fence, and called Skase over to help her
    move some new shrubs from her car to where she wanted them
    planted. Skase seemed happy to help, the epitome of a
    dutiful neighbor.
    When it looked like Skase was about to start on his third
    pass over the car, Mulder decided he'd seen enough. He
    climbed from the car and headed for the house.
    Mulder trotted up the drive and waited for acknowledgment.
    Skase looked surprised at first, but that look was soon
    overtaken by a saccharine smile. He continued to wash his
    car, glancing over towards Mulder's disreputable Ford
    parked outside on the street.
    "Don't bother. She's not here."
    "Oh. That's disappointing." Skase tossed the sponge back
    into the bucket of soapy water. "It seems I misunderstood,
    Agent Mulder. I didn't realize I was muzzling into your
    territory."
    Mulder shook his head, "That's not your business. Who the
    hell do you think you are? Hanging around my apartment
    spying on us?"
    "Just doing my homework. May the best man win."
    "This isn't a competition." Mulder took a few steps
    towards the other man, "I'm telling you once only. Stay
    away from Scully."
    "Or what?"
    Mulder grabbed Skase by the shirt, shoved him against the
    car with such force it left a dent.
    Skase remain silent, stunned into submission.
    "I know what you are," Mulder hissed at him, "I know all
    those accidents were somehow your doing. I'm not letting
    you put Scully into the same danger." He shook Skase out of
    his stupor; there was a tearing sound, and a button flew
    off Skase's expensive shirt.
    Skase stared at the damage a moment, and then gave Mulder
    a look that could kill.
    A loud cracking sound reached Mulder's ears a split second
    later --the sound of the gun on his belt discharging. He
    dropped to the ground clutching at his wounded leg,
    muttering obscenities. Skase reached over casually and
    pulled the smoking gun from his holster.
    Skase handled the gun awkwardly, waving the muzzle in the
    direction of the back seat of the Thunderbird, but Mulder
    was in no position to offer much in the way of opposition.
    "Time you and I went for a little ride, Agent Mulder."
    Mulder wasn't listening, the pain in his leg was blocking
    out all other sensory information. He remembered seeing
    blue sky, white clouds and green grass. Then nothing.
    Washington D.C.
    Nov 25, 11:55AM
    The mid-morning traffic was in full force. Scully waited
    in her car at the traffic lights, drumming her fingers on
    the steering wheel as she watched pedestrians hurry past
    carrying brightly colored shopping bags.
    Her phone shrilled. She cursed as she realized she'd
    forgotten to turn it off, debated with herself over whether
    she should answer it.
    Then she remembered where Mulder had gone. She fumbled
    with one hand to answer as the traffic started to move
    forward. "Scully."
    "You're a difficult woman to catch, Dana. I was beginning
    to think you were ignoring me on purpose."
    There was something in Skase's voice that put Scully on
    edge. "I'm busy," was the most non-committal response she
    could muster.
    "I know. Agent Mulder is coming between us. So I'm doing
    something about it."
    Scully pulled her car over, ignoring the horns blaring
    behind her, intent on hearing every word. "Quentin? Where's
    Agent Mulder?" Scully did her best to ignore the sound of
    her thumping heart, determined to hear anything in the
    background --anything, no matter how faint, that might give
    her a clue as to Mulder's whereabouts.
    Skase wasn't going to make her play guessing games.
    "There's a junkyard out I-95. Johnson's Scrap. You know it?"
    Scully frowned to herself as she thought, "Yes... I think
    so. It's near the carnival grounds?"
    "Yes. Meet me there."
    "Quentin... I want to talk to Agent Mulder."
    "I'm sorry, Agent Mulder can't come to the phone."
    "Why not?" She waited for an answer, but none came.
    "Quentin?"
    "Unfortunately, Agent Mulder had an accident."
    "What kind of accident!? ...Hello?"
    The line went silent.
    Scully gritted her teeth, pushed away the fear pooling in
    the pit of her stomach, and pulled back into the traffic,
    forcing a minivan off onto the shoulder in her haste.
    Johnson's Scrap Metal
    Bethesda
    Nov 25, 12:00PM
    The world spun, accompanied by eerie carnival music. It
    took Mulder a few seconds to realize the sound was real.
    His head ached and he fought the urge to vomit.
    When he opened his eyes, he was face down in the dirt. His
    wrists ached, but attempting to move them only caused more
    pain. After a few seconds of useless struggling, he finally
    realized they were bound behind him. The burning pain in
    his leg had subsided somewhat, leaving a sticky, cold wet
    sensation. He rolled over and attempted to get to his feet,
    but his legs remained uncooperative.
    The sun was high in the sky, and the glare blinded him. He
    squinted into the bright light and looked around.
    It looked like some kind of junkyard. Wrecked cars
    teetered in precarious piles as far as the eye could see.
    He noticed the Thunderbird parked ominously behind him.
    Although its owner was nowhere to be seen, Mulder guessed
    he wouldn't be far away.
    The sound of footsteps in the dirt made him spin around to
    face the noise. The scenery whirled for a moment, until his
    gaze rested on Skase.
    "OK Skase... Was nice of you to take me for a spin in the
    T-Bird. I'm suitably impressed. You can untie me now."
    Skase laughed. He looked down at the gun in his hands, got
    a proper grip on it before pointing it at Mulder. The music
    from the nearby circus rose and fell with the wind.
    Mulder suddenly felt uneasy, as if he'd been dropped into
    some kind of macabre Rohl Dahl hell. He'd had guns pointed
    at him before, but that was generally by people who knew
    what they were doing with them.
    Skase pointed the weapon haphazardly as he spoke. "Maybe
    you're right. Maybe all those accidents were my fault...
    but if I'm happy, there'll be no more accidents. Dana can
    make me happy. It's her duty to make me happy."
    Closing his eyes, Mulder sank back against the car. His
    mind raced, frantically trying to think of anything to keep
    Skase occupied in the hope that Scully would turn up.
    "No..." he grimaced through the pain, "No... If I'm right,
    the best thing you can do for Agent Scully is to stay away
    from her..."
    Mulder watched Skase fight himself over the issue. He
    glanced around hopefully. If Skase was frustrated, maybe
    some of that bad karma would come back to haunt him.
    But nothing happened. No one-ton anvils fell from the sky,
    no elephants marched in to trample him. The gun didn't even
    misfire again. Mulder groaned. Of all times to be wrong.
    Another idea struck him as he studied the dent in the
    fender his altercation with Skase left behind - it had
    happened only seconds before his gun had discharged without
    warning. Slowly he pulled his feet under himself, ready to
    make a move.
    Mulder jumped to his feet, and deliberately ran behind the
    car for cover, pain screaming up his injured leg. Skase
    fired after him, missing, only to pepper the smooth skin of
    the white Thunderbird with bullet holes.
    As Scully climbed from her car, she heard the shots. With
    her heart in her mouth, she pulled her weapon, and ran in
    the direction from which they had come as fast as she could.
    She hit the open space running, first seeing the
    Thunderbird, then Skase, still training the gun on Mulder.
    "Freeze! FBI! Drop your weapon!"
    Skase kept his position, still holding the gun on Mulder,
    "Dana. Don't be angry. I'm doing this for you."
    "The only thing you can do for me now is to put down the
    gun."
    There was a tense moment as Skase considered. Much to
    Scully's relief, he lowered the weapon, and left it on the
    ground at his feet.
    At first she thought she imagined it; a low growl emitted
    from behind a pile of scrap metal. A split second later,
    she gasped as a large animal sprung from its hiding place.
    Scully stared in horror. A tiger -- A goddamned tiger
    loose in the middle of Bethesda, Maryland. It swatted Skase
    with one swipe of a mighty paw, and pounced on him in a
    flurry of white teeth and razor claws.
    She heard Mulder yell in shock, saw him skitter backwards
    in an attempt to get as far away as he could. Scully aimed
    her gun, but the precious seconds dragged out, and she was
    unable to squeeze off a reliable shot. A wounded tiger was
    not an option she was prepared to consider. She opted to
    fire a few shots into the ground, hoping to scare it off.
    The tiger leapt from its victim, and headed for cover
    behind a teetering pile of junk. Scully fired after it,
    unsure if she hit it. She paused for a split second to tend
    to Skase, but the sight of his clawed heart lying on the
    outside of his chest deterred her.
    Scully didn't have time to be stunned. Instead she made a
    beeline for Mulder, and removed the wire binding his hands.
    Mulder opened his eyes, "Scully... am I hallucinating, or
    did Skase just get... mauled by a... tiger?"
    "If you are, we're having the same hallucination." She
    tore his trouser leg open to get a better look at his
    wound, still looking over her shoulder, mindful that the
    tiger might make another appearance. She pulled a pen knife
    from her pocket and cut a piece of Mulder's suit coat,
    folded it into a square.
    "Aw, Scully, this was my favorite suit..."
    "They're all your favorite suit, Mulder." She placed the
    folded cloth over the wound on his leg.
    Three men burst into the area, armed with rifles. One
    leaned over and studied Skase, another younger man stayed
    at the back, ashen-faced at the sight of Skase's body. "Did
    you see which way the animal went?"
    Scully nodded, and pointed over towards the row of cars,
    "It could be anywhere."
    "Don't worry... we'll find it."
    Scully turned her attention back to Mulder's wounded leg,
    tearing his trousers open a little further so she could
    have a closer look at the damage.
    "Scully... Shouldn't we get a room first?" Mulder managed
    a weak grin.
    Scully pressed the makeshift compress against the wound a
    little harder.
    "Ow!"
    "Hold that tight..." Scully put his hand over the compress
    she'd just placed, then reached for her phone and dialed.
    "This is Agent Dana Scully. I have an agent down. Ambulance
    required, Johnson's Scrap on the I95. I repeat, agent
    down." Scully rattled off her badge number and waited for
    the dispatcher to repeat back the directions.
    She finished the call and tucked her phone away, then
    settled on the ground, maneuvering Mulder's head to rest on
    her lap, "They're on the way. Won't be long." She scanned
    the surrounding area carefully, still clutching her gun,
    panting heavily with relief. "Don't worry. Your leg doesn't
    look too serious."
    Mulder closed his eyes a moment, comforted by the fingers
    running through his hair. "I'm OK." He paused, and gave a
    weak laugh, "If this happens again I'll make a perfect
    sieve."
    "What happened, Mulder?"
    "I think he knew, Scully... about the accidents. When I
    confirmed it, it just pushed him over the edge." Mulder
    sighed. "Maybe Skase's frustrations had a way of
    manifesting themselves into the physical... influencing
    odds... causing freakish accidents... or maybe..."
    "Maybe, what?"
    The sound of sirens reached their ears. "Maybe he should
    have called that car Christine."
    Epilogue.
    Johnson's Scrap Metal
    Bethesda
    Nov 27, 4:00PM
    In the back of the yard, a young man admired a white T-
    Bird hardtop. To be sure, she looked a wreck now, with a
    dented fender, and mysterious puncture holes marring one
    side, but he could see the potential. A little work from
    him and she would quickly be back to her former glory.
    He studied her smooth curves, glossy paintwork and
    gleaming chrome and congratulated himself on an astute
    purchase. He didn't know why, but he decided to call her
    Zelda. She looked like a Zelda: pale, curvy and sleek.
    Zelda.
    Yep, she really was captivating.
    End.


End file.
